At Her Mercy
by Wonderbat Erin
Summary: Based on 'Tabula Rasa' from Justice League Animated. Mercy Graves goes to work and she finds a very beaten-up Lex Luthor begging for her help.


**So, I'm still a BMWW shipper... But I just rewatched 'Tabula Rasa' and I found out that I think that Mercy Graves and Lex Luthor make an amazing couple. And there isn't enough fanfiction for this pairing out there... so I wrote this little piece. Have fun!**

A smashed window was the least of Mercy Graves' problems as of now.

If she had ever fantasised that Lex Luthor would be here crawling at her feet, begging her help, she would have prepared a whole camera crew. After all, it wasn't every day that she came to work early in the morning and found her ex-boss lying in a puddle of crushed metal on the pristine marble floor. Frankly, she was a little disappointed that his penchant for drama hadn't led him to make a more dramatic entrance, but, oh well. She supposed it wasn't easy to make a dramatic entrance when one was on the brink of death.

"Mercy..." he croaked. "Get this damn armour off me. It's crushing my windpipe."

She laughed dryly, slowly settling down into her chair - what _used_ to be _his_ chair - and surveying him with a strange kind of clinical triumph. Oh, she had been waiting for this kind of situation for so long, it was impossible not to drag it out.

Lex Luthor. At. Her. Feet.

"Of course," she, said, mimicking his deep voice. "Lex Luthor's word is, as usual, the law."

"Don't play around with me, Mercy, I've had a crappy enough day," he growled. "Now get this damn armour off me. I'm dying, can't you see?" He said it with the characteristic impatience of a man who thinks the world can't go on without him.

Mercy didn't budge. Oh, it was too delicious to see Lex Luthor on the floor like this, begging for her help in a way that made it seem as if she were the one begging to help her.

He was at her mercy. At her Mercy.

The whole thing would be funny if it wasn't so... _unfunny_.

"Why should I, Lex?" she said, coldly, and she reveled in the expression on his face. The contortions that passed over it, the way he bowed his head as if calculating how he could kill her. But he wouldn't be able to. Oh, no. After all, she did his dirty work for him. He didn't sully his precious Luthor hands with blood; he simply called, and like a dog, she would obey him.

Well, no longer.

"I have everything I want. You don't have anything to offer me now," she hissed, momentarily losing her detached exterior as the memories flooded in - of him casually dismissing her affections, of him whispering words of love, of him backhanding her when she dared to speak out... Then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Within moments, the detached facade was back. "Actually, I should thank you," she murmured coolly. "Without you, none of this would have happened. I must say I'm glad you picked me off the streets and made me into what I am now. And look! You never imagined I'd be like you one day, did you? Sitting at a wooden desk, holding a pen instead of a knife... Trying to save your little company from your mistakes." Her voice hardened. "As if your investment in the search for Kryptonite wasn't enough to break the bank, you had to go and land yourself in jail. And who paid for the bail? LexCorp. The managing board isn't very happy with you at the moment, dear Lex."

"Fools," he gasped. "I... made this company into what it is. I'm a Luthor... A Luthor, you hear me? And I... I require your assistance!"

She crossed her legs. "Give me one reason to do so, you self-important, puffed-up buffoon," she said, slitting her eyes lazily.

And his next answer completely disarmed her. Knocked her off her feet.

"Because you love me, Mercy Graves," he said, and honestly, she could just tear that smug smile off his face. But she was too busy being stunned.

So there it was. He'd dug up the hatchet. He'd hung out the dirty linen. And he wanted her to come back into his arms again.

"What the hell?" she said, and her voice was very, very soft. It had to be, or it would break. Controlling her anger had always been her strong suit. Not now, apparently. "You... You think you can barge in here and demand me to help you on the basis of some... some deranged fantasy of yours? Nuh-uh. Nuh-uh." She shook her head, but she could feel herself getting a little hysterical. "I'm not gonna fall for that again. Nope. I'm not stupid, Lex."

In answer, he heaved himself to his feet in a startling display of strength and slammed his lips onto hers. She resisted for a few seconds, but the armour was crushing her so, and, oh, she wanted to breathe and he would not let her, and she wanted him to let go...

And suddenly she wasn't so sure of that.

Her small hands - hands that could kill a man - went around his neck and she moaned. His lips were devouring her, inside and out, and she opened her mouth, let him in. And his tongue was doing magical things to her, and...

And he broke away. His eyes sought her, and he said with an almost heartbreaking sincerity: "I'm going to die, Mercy. Don't you care, even a little bit?"

And she hesitated. A second too long.

"Come on," she snarled at last. "We can't let anyone see you here."

And as she stalked out of the door, Lex Luthor smiled.


End file.
